


Broken Things

by mac_haze



Category: Shameless (TV), Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mac_haze/pseuds/mac_haze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey knew that Ian would find him eventually. He just didn't know if either of them would be able to look at each other the same way again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Things

**Author's Note:**

> Just getting around to posting this now. Written to fit the scene on the roof in 3x07 with a minor adjustment to the dialogue. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I just play with 'em

Mickey knew that Ian would find him eventually. He had been shooting round after round and missing every other shot he fired into the target the two of them had set up after building the ROTC training course that Ian insisted would help boost his training. Mickey refused to look at him, his entire body tensing up, gut clenching painfully and his hands shaking a bit too much for him to hide it. He was ashamed to admit that he was too much of a coward to face Ian and didn’t know if either of them would ever be able to look at each other the same way again.

"So uh...thanks to me, you've been pistol whipped and shot in the ass," Mickey heard the forced lightness of Ian’s tone.

Instead of giving in to the convulsions his stomach was going through, Mickey squeezed the trigger of his gun and fired off another round.

"Just wanted to make sure you were ok." 

There was something earnest, something bordering on desperation and regret that made Mickey swallow the bile that was building in the base of his throat. 

He pulled the trigger again and missed. Mickey could feel Ian’s eyes on him and could only imagine the awful things Ian saw in him.

"I can't stop thinking about it." 

Those words were softer. Like he hated admitting it. Mickey couldn't blame him. It was all he could do not to turn the gun on himself or Terry. 

"What happened—" Ian said it almost like an after thought. 

As if Mickey could forget. He could never forget. The memory of that day kept him from sleeping. In the two weeks since they had last seen each other, Mickey might have gotten a total of two hours of sleep, max. Mickey had been on edge ever since that awful morning and found it ironic that the sound of a gun didn't make him jump, but the sound of the front door of his house slamming shut nearly sent him into a panic. 

Mickey squeezed his eyes shut until the memories disappeared. He couldn't pull the trigger that time. Mickey could feel the anguish rolling off Ian and he almost turned around. He shifted anxiously from one foot to the other trying to talk himself out of having any sort of conversation. 

This was for his own good. How could Ian not realize that? Mickey couldn't risk talking to him, not after everything that had been left unsaid between them. Mickey was afraid that if he started talking, he wouldn't be able to stop. 

He would tell Ian everything—how fucking sorry he was. About how he was to blame, that he had been too weak to stop it, that if he had just let Ian out of the house to go to work when he had wanted, Terry never would have caught them. He wanted to scream and shake Ian so hard that he understood that there was no other way to satisfy Terry. That what he had done—what he had been made to do—was the only way to keep Ian safe. And now that Terry knew about the two of them, the only way Mickey knew how to protect him was to pretend like they never had anything. Like they never meant anything to each other. Most of all, he wanted to tell Ian that, in the hour where Terry held them at gunpoint, his biggest regret was not allowing himself to tell Ian that he cared for him. 

The urge to turn to Ian, just to look at him, to verify that he was alright, was almost too much. In those seconds when he was fighting his own personal internal battle, Ian yelled, "Would you at least look at me?!" 

There was so much hurt in Ian's plea that it almost sounded like defeat. 

If Ian had been defeated by this, then Mickey was done for. He might as well consider everything over. But most of all, Mickey was afraid that if he turned around, Ian would see everything he was: broken, and so, so hurt that it felt like his skin was peeling off to expose his most vulnerable parts. No matter how badly Mickey wanted to turn to Ian, he could never allow himself to be seen in such a state. 

So he pulled the trigger, his mouth twisting into a scowl to hide the fact that the reason his eyes were burning was because he felt like crying. 

"Fine." Ian's last word was mostly frustration. 

Mickey was going to allow himself a breath of relief when he heard Ian's shoes crunch the gravel underfoot as he turned. Mickey braced himself.

"By the way...thank you. You saved my life."

But who's going to save mine? Mickey thought quietly to himself. 

Ian walked away.

Mickey always knew that one day he would break Ian Gallagher's heart, but he never realized his would break, too.


End file.
